How Can We Live?
by mokatster
Summary: After leaving Narnia for the second time, Edmund and Lucy don't know the answer to that question. They find out later, to their surprise, that neither do Susan and Peter.
1. Returning

**How Can We Live? **

**by: mokatster**

**A/N: **I've actually had the idea for this story in my head for quite a while; it makes for a nice parallel with "This Ordinary Life." The title is taken from the end of the book "The Voyage of the Dawn Treader," when Lucy despairingly asks Aslan how they can live in England, never knowing Him.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Narnia, but I am in love with C.S. Lewis and all of his works. :) Story rated for mild language and emotional turmoil.

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_Chapter One: Returning_

"We'll go."

At his brother's words, Edmund started in alarm. His head turned sharply from the crowded courtyard as he whipped around to face Peter.

"We will?"

He hadn't meant to speak the words aloud—shock had rendered his tongue uncontrollable. He wanted it to be a joke. Surely they weren't leaving so soon—they had barely been here a week! But Peter just looked at him, and when their eyes met, Edmund felt his heart drop to his stomach like a stone.

He was serious. They were leaving.

Edmund didn't have the time to feel anything except bewilderment—indeed, he and Lucy barely had time to exchange stunned and disappointed glances before he heard Susan speak.

"We're not coming back."

This time the shock rendered Edmund completely speechless. He was glad when, after a long moment, Lucy broke the stunned silence.

"We're not?"

Her voice was tiny, the voice of one trying to be brave but who is really quite frightened and confused.

Peter tried to explain, and it was clear he knew a lot more than Lucy and Edmund. He must have been talking to Aslan.

"But _why_?" Lucy cried, turning desperately to the Lion. "Did they do something wrong?"

"Quite the opposite, Dear One," Aslan said, smiling. He looked at Edmund too, and His eyes were reassuring. "But all things have their time."

The Lion said something more, and despite His comforting tone, Edmund felt his heart sink even further. Peter and Susan were never coming back? Narnia was closed off to them forever? What did He mean, they'd "learned what they can?"

Lucy had remained as still and quiet as Edmund, clearly just as disappointed and fearful for Susan and Peter as he was. Peter smiled reassuringly and took her hand in both of his own.

"It's all right, Lu," he said softly. "It's not how I thought it would be.

"But it's all right," he said again, a little more firmly as he glanced at Edmund, who scrutinized his brother's face. Peter didn't seem distressed at all. His expression was calm, and Edmund saw nothing but acceptance in his eyes. He really did seem to think that it was all right, just as he had said.

Well, if Peter could accept it, he could too.

As they turned away from the crowded courtyard toward the door in the air, Edmund wondered…

Would being back in England be easier to accept, knowing that the Lion had blessed their return? That there was obviously a plan that explained why things were happening the way they were?

His step faltered slightly before he reached the tree. The knowledge that he was leaving weighed his feet down like lead and slowed his steps. He fought fiercely against the urge to stop and run back to Aslan, to beg Him not to send them away. But he didn't look back—he _couldn't_ look back.

He felt his brother put his hands on his shoulders and squeeze tightly. Edmund stood a little straighter and felt braver.

As he passed through the door, he inhaled deeply to fill his lungs one last time with sweet Narnian air—but instead felt the sharp tang of metal and the musty scent of the Underground fill his nostrils. The soothing warmth of the Narnian sun was replaced by the stifling heat of the crowded platform. There was no soft breeze caressing his face, but instead the blast of wind created by the train rushing into the station. The tremendous cacophony of the cars clattering along the rails and the din of a large, chattering crowd filled his ears. And Edmund stood, dazed, trying to acclimate himself to the sudden shift in his surroundings.

He looked around him, tugging slightly at the scratchy scarf now looped around his neck. He saw schoolchildren pushing and shoving to get to the train first and claim the best seats. He saw the dull colors of the station and the tired faces of soldiers and ordinary citizens as they made their way through the crowd of rowdy children.

Edmund found himself wondering again: would living in England be easier now?

Now that he was here…he didn't see how. Narnia had changed for the worse while they had been gone—but England hadn't changed for the better. He would have given anything for it to be otherwise.

Because how could he live here, when the world he truly loved was lost to him? How could he accept anything about this life filled with insignificance and despair?

How could he find meaning here, when the One he yearned for was nowhere to be found?

He heard the final boarding call sound. He hastily gathered his things and followed Peter onto the train, patting his pockets and peeking in his bag for the perfunctory last-minute assurance that he had all his belongings.

Lion's mane, but he wished he were anywhere but here…

"Do you think there's any way we can get back?"

He asked the question out loud without meaning to. His brother and sisters all looked at him expectantly when he didn't immediately elaborate, their faces puzzled.

He cast his hand around the inside of his bag, looking for an explanation. His hand met—nothing. Dismayed, he unzipped the top all the way and looked inside.

"I left my new torch in Narnia!"

He knew there was nothing they could do to go back—but at that moment, the laughter of his siblings was comfort enough for him. He grinned.

************

"Lu."

Lucy blinked, roused from her ruminations, and noticed that Edmund had taken a recently vacated seat. When she finally looked at him, he gestured to the empty seat next to him.

She moved gratefully to settle next to her brother. The subway ride was only about half an hour, and though she didn't mind standing, it was rather irksome trying to keep her balance in the swaying car. Susan was already sitting across from them, and Peter stood next to her, keeping a precautionary grip on the support rail.

She glanced at Edmund and noticed that he was watching her, looking…concerned? She managed a small smile and received half of one in return. Experimentally, she leaned against him. Edmund had never really been one for hugs; he was usually the one subjected to the terror that was the embrace—at least, that was how he viewed it. But to her pleasant surprise, he slung an arm across the back of her seat. It wasn't a hug, not really—one never really received hugs from Edmund, except in very special circumstances. But Lucy would take what she could get. She scooted a little closer and leaned into Edmund's side. She felt his arm wrap around her shoulders and hold her a little closer.

Lucy smiled to herself. This must be one of those special circumstances.

She glanced surreptitiously at her older siblings. Susan was immersed in a magazine—she seemed calm enough. Peter was reading the advertisements posted above the windows and doors. He, too, seemed unperturbed.

Lucy hoped it would stay this way. Last year, they had all managed fairly well until school started. She remembered the loneliness as her sister began to make new friends; her excitement whenever she received a call from her brothers; how that excitement had quickly turned into anxiety as she listened to Edmund's telling of his and Peter's encounters with those bullies he had once called friends.

Most of all, she remembered feeling desperate. Having known Aslan, having lived an entirely different life in Narnia, she didn't think she could ever get used to life in England again. How could she? She would always know there was something better. Here, everything was too…dull. And too normal. The only new and exciting things that happened here were exciting in a terrifying sort of way, like bombing raids. Or exciting in a dreadful kind of way, like the first day of school.

Her stomach twisted with anxiety. Who was to say that things would be any different this year? They were, after all, in the same situation.

She sighed. Why did everything have to change? Why couldn't they have just stayed in Narnia? It was better than here. It would _always_ be better than here.

Nobody spoke much as they rode the subway to the end of the line, climbed up to the street, and made their way to the train station at the edge of the city. From there, Lucy and Susan would get on a train going in one direction and half an hour later the boys would take a train going in the other.

Even after buying their tickets from the grumpy old man in the ticket booth, they still had to wait twenty minutes for the first train when they reached the deserted platform. The girls immediately sank down onto a bench; Susan opened her magazine again while Lucy leaned forward, peering further down the tracks, wanting to see the train the moment it rounded the bend. She hoped the conductor would blow the whistle before he pulled into the station—that was her favorite part. Edmund plopped onto the bench next to Susan and sat with his elbows on his knees, staring at the ground. Peter remained standing.

"I'm going to buy a snack," he announced, rummaging in his pockets for coins. "Anyone want something?"

Edmund jumped up immediately, but Lucy shook her head while Susan murmured a polite "No, thank you." Lucy didn't feel particularly hungry—at least, not for any of the food she could get here. She thought longingly of the celebration banquet they had had at Caspian's castle the night of his coronation. She would give anything for one of those fresh oranges right now…

After a few minutes, the boys returned bearing packages of plain biscuits. Edmund tossed one onto Susan's lap, wrinkling her magazine, and then resumed his seat next to her, ripping open his own package.

"I said I didn't want one!" Susan protested, smoothing the pages of her magazine in a slightly irritated manner.

Edmund rolled his eyes, already munching contentedly on his biscuits. "You should eat them anyway. They're probably the most edible thing you'll get until the winter holiday at home." He grinned at Susan, knowing that she hated the school food as much as he did, and she chuckled, stowing the biscuits in her bag for later.

Lucy took the package that Peter gave her with a small smile. She hadn't wanted one either, but—she turned the package over in her hands, looking at the wrapper. Her breath caught in her throat.

A lion was smiling up at her.

Lucy looked up at Peter to see her brother smiling too as he tore into his own package of "Jungle Lion Biscuits." He bent down to whisper in her ear. "You see, Lu? I really don't think he's as far away from us as we first thought."

She looked at her biscuits again. It was just a silly picture, such a fake-looking lion—and yet Lucy felt reassured. Aslan had been known to hide in plain sight, after all.

Maybe He really was a part of England just as much as Narnia. She had never thought of that before.

If that was the case….then she would just have to look for Him.

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading! Updates should be quick, since all subsequent chapters are merely in need of editing. And, as always, any and all reviews are greatly appreciated! :)


	2. Letters

**How Can We Live?**

**by: mokatster**

_Chapter Two: Letters _

**A/N: **Just a word on the dates...I will admit that I did not research what year the Pevensies would have returned to school. If anyone thinks I'm mistaken with the year, let me know!

Many thanks to all who have favorited, added this story to their alerts list, and reviewed! It's so encouraging to see the reader response! :)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Narnia, nor any of the characters within that series. But Jack, who is mentioned briefly and will appear in other stories, is mine. :)

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29 September, 1942

Dear Edmund,

Yes, I know it's only been three days since school started and that you probably think me silly for writing so soon. But really, someone has to get the ball rolling on this whole correspondence business, and Aslan knows that you're terrible at writing letters that aren't responses to ones you've already received. (Sorry if that sounded a bit harsh—but you have to admit it's true!)

Not too much has happened since we parted ways—well, I should say nothing _exciting_ has happened. I've been to all my classes at least once, and Susan and I have eaten lunch together every day so far. (That's my favorite part of the day…but I have to say that my dance class comes in close second!)

Oh, I have to tell you about my roommate, Marjorie! She's really nice! I don't know her too terribly well yet, but I can tell we're going to be great friends. She isn't like the other girls in my form.

How is everything at Hendon? I do hope things aren't as rough as they were last term. I'm a little worried because of everything that happened last year…but Edmund, something Peter told me at the train station made me think. He said that he thinks that Aslan isn't as far as we might believe. But he didn't elaborate—do you think he means that Aslan can hear us and see us here in England, even from Narnia? We've never seen Him here…I'm not sure what else Peter could have meant.

I've written to Peter, but I have a suspicion that he won't be entirely truthful with me when I ask how he is. But I know you keep an eye on him more than he realizes—so how is he, really?

Please write back soon! I miss you!

Love always,

Lucy

**

10 October, 1942

Dear Lucy,

First of all, I'll have you know that I started writing you letters first last year. I know you keep everything you get in the post, so I dare you to check the date. You'll see that it was the _day after_ we started school, and even you never write that early. So ha ha and _ha_!

Hendon is boring as usual. What else do you expect? It's the same old classes, the same old food, the same old people. I have my old European history teacher from last year for my History of International Diplomacy class. I really don't know how I'm going to survive this one. Actually, I might have a chance because Jack—you remember me telling you about him, don't you?—is in this class again with me. But what I'm afraid of is that the best we're going to be able to do is to comfort each other before we both die of complete and utter boredom. And don't tell me I'm exaggerating or that I'm being dramatic—it really is _that_ bad.

I'm glad to hear things are going well with you. Tell me more about Marjorie; how is she different from the other girls? You're lucky that you and Susan can both eat lunch together; my class schedule doesn't work well with Peter's at all. He has to take the second lunch hour because he has class during the first one. I, however, am in the first hour because I have rugby practice during the second. So we don't even see each other until dinner (if even then). As far as I can tell, though, he's perfectly fine. He doesn't feel as trapped as he did last year.

And speaking of Peter…I think he must be right, Lu. I thought about this for a while after reading your letter and it makes sense. I mean, Aslan must have been at work even before we went into Narnia. It was destined for us to take the four thrones—how else could it be explained, but that He has control over this world and Narnia? It's just tricky though, because He isn't _here_ like He is there. I don't really know how to explain it; hopefully I'm making sense…and I don't really know if He can hear us or not, to tell you the truth. Like I said, He isn't _here_.

Since you're asking about Peter…how is Susan? Does she seem to be holding up all right? I'm writing to her as well, but…like you said, people aren't always entirely truthful.

I'd better go now, before I'm late for class! I want to drop this off in the Head's office so it can be posted later this afternoon.

Love you, Lu!

Edmund

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**A/N: **Thanks for reading! Reviews would be helpful and encouraging! Up next: more letters.


	3. Letters II

**How Can We Live? **

**by: mokatster**

_Chapter Three: Letters II_

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24 October, 1942

Dear Edmund,

I am sorry to hear about your history class; I know how awful it is to sit through dull lectures. Though actually, my classes are getting harder, I think. Susan's had to help me quite a bit with my mathematics. I'm afraid it's just something I was never really good at, even in Narnia. I was rubbish at the navigational charts, and so just left things of that nature in your and Peter's capable hands.

I am glad to hear that Peter seems to be doing well, though. I was actually thinking he sounded much better as I read his last letter; he seems pretty excited about the new people he's met and everything he gets to do this year. I guess he's going to play rugby again this year, then? Which of you can score the most, I wonder? (Oh dear, I can't imagine what I've started with that challenging statement…)

I think Susan's all right. I mean, she doesn't seem any different to me. She didn't really seem to be that way last year either. I don't know, Ed. I don't really like to bring up the subject of Narnia with her much. We never talk about it very long before we move on to something else. She seems to be fine with where we are.

You asked how Marjorie is different? Well, for one thing, she's on scholarship like we are. So she's not all stuck-up like all the rich girls—and it seems like all the other girls in my form are from really rich families. They're always playing with their china dolls and silly things of that nature. They never want to go outside for some fresh air because the wind will either muss their hair or their uniform. I mean, honestly. They're missing so much of life acting the way they are. But Marjorie likes to have fun like I do.

And one more thing…I'm not quite sure I understand your reasoning about Aslan, Ed. If He can work His will here in England without being _here_, as you put it, then what on earth is there to stop Him hearing and seeing us too? The four of us are from both worlds, so why can't He be?

I would really like to write more, but I have an enormous pile of reading to get through before tomorrow afternoon! Hopefully we can talk on the telephone sometime?

Tell me everything going on at Hendon! I miss you!

Love always,

Lucy

**

2 November, 1942

Dear Lucy,

Quite a lot has been going on at Hendon, believe it or not! I'll try to be as brief as possible for the sake of your time (you always seem to have a pile of reading to do, huh?) and for the sake of my hand muscles. I hate writing long letters, my hand will inevitably cramp up. It's rather aggravating.

So, let's begin with rugby! I am pleased to announce that I am currently ahead of Peter in this little competition that you so generously instigated. (I suppose I should add that Peter doesn't even know that we're competing, but that's beside the point). I'm still winning!

And…Jack and I did get caught passing notes in our history class. (Don't you dare tell Susan because she'll get mad and I'll never hear the end of it). We have to go around to all the classrooms tonight and clean the blackboards. I say it's worth it—I can't even believe that counts as a punishment. Of course, I didn't reveal any of this to the Head while he was sternly lecturing us because that would have gotten us a much worse punishment! He said he would telephone Mum to let her know that I got a detention, but I think that's rubbish. I mean, if he called all the parents for every little thing that students have done wrong, he wouldn't have time to do anything else! It'll just go on my record and that's that. I don't think it's a big deal.

I'm glad to hear Susan's doing all right. It's not that surprising that she doesn't want to talk about Narnia, is it? Don't get mad, Lu—but I think that maybe it's a good thing for her. I mean, obviously Aslan thought their time was up there. It's time for her to move on and focus on things here for a while. He obviously thought that she and Peter were ready for a new challenge—and I suppose they have to find that challenge here.

And speaking of Aslan…I really have no idea, Lucy. I wouldn't say we're from both worlds, really…I mean, we keep getting drawn back to Narnia, but our roots are here. And Aslan's roots are in Narnia. I don't know if we'll ever be able to completely answer our questions, though. What you say makes sense, I suppose, but can we ever really understand Him and what He can and can't do? If we could…then it would be as if we were on the same level as Him, knowing all the answers.

Write soon—I look forward to your letters.

Love you,

Edmund

P.S. I'm afraid talking on the telephone is out of the question. I don't know what happened, but someone did something stupid and now we're only allowed to use the phone to call our parents. I hate it when people ruin things for the entire group.

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**A/N: **Thanks for reading! Last bunch of letters up next. :)


	4. Letters III

**How Can We Live? **

**by: mokatster**

_Chapter Four: Letters III_

**Disclaimer:** Whoops, forgot about this for the last chapter! The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C.S. Lewis. I am not he; therefore, I do not own Narnia.

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15 November, 1942

Dear Edmund,

That's really too bad about the telephone…but letters are still fun! I always like receiving post. I think it's just as exciting as Christmas, don't you?

You really should tell Peter about your one-sided (because that's what it is) rugby competition. It's not very _just_ for you to be exerting all the effort into beating him and not giving him the chance to do the same, now, is it? (I would tell you to pretend that I'm giving you Mum's stern look, but I'm no good at it…it would probably just make you laugh to imagine it).

Oh, I have to tell you about the other day! It was raining _all_ day and I was trying to work on an essay, but I couldn't concentrate at all. So I asked Marjorie if she would come outside with me! She absolutely refused at first because it was wet and cold, but she caved under my insistence. And we went and danced in the rain, Edmund! It was so much fun! It definitely wasn't as much fun as dancing in a summer rainfall—in the winter the rain feels like ice! And we actually did get in trouble with the Headmistress and had to spend the night in the hospital wing with hot water bottles under the sheets and chamomile tea to make sure we didn't catch cold, but I didn't mind! Marjorie was scared at first when the Headmistress caught us, but she told me later that she had had fun. See, I'm not the only one who likes to play in the rain!

About Susan…I don't know what you mean by "moving on," Ed. What does she need to move on from? Just because we're here now doesn't mean that we still can't talk about Narnia, does it?

About Aslan…I'm not sure I really like the way you worded your argument, Ed. I agree that we'll never know the answers to everything and that it's impossible to be on the same level of understanding as Aslan. But I don't like how you said his roots are in Narnia. I know what you meant, but it sounds like you're saying that He's tied to Narnia, like His power is limited, somehow. And while we can't ever have the same level of knowledge and understanding as Aslan, I don't think He hides things from us. I think we have the ability to discover what we will; it's only that our powers of discovery are limited because of our flawed nature.

I hope everything is going well, and that your detention wasn't awful! (If I were friends with more people in my classes, I'd pass notes too!) Write soon, please.

Love always,

Lucy

**

23 November, 1942

Dear Lucy,

So it turns out I don't have to tell Peter _anything_ about our little competition because you took care of that for me! Lucy, why did you do that?? Now he's taking it upon himself to tackle me every chance he gets, even if I'm not the one with the ball! All because he's paranoid I'm going to get more points than him! Imagine me glaring at you.

And you would go out and play in the freezing cold rain. I play rugby in the rain all the time, but I don't go out there just because it's raining. I really don't understand you sometimes.

Just give Susan some space, Lucy. And you know I didn't mean "moving on" in the sense of forgetting Narnia; I meant that she just needs to find out how to reconcile what she's done there with her life here. It's something we all have to do.

As for Aslan, I know without a doubt that His power is unlimited—I mean, how much more powerful can you get after conquering Death itself? It never ceases to astound me. It's just that this business about different worlds complicates things. I've already explained my confusion to you, there's really not much more I can say.

Well, Lu, not too much has happened here. Just finishing up with final exams! I cannot _wait_ to get home for winter holiday. I'm going to do absolutely nothing intellectual. In fact, I hope my brain rots from its lack of intellectual activity. I'm sick and tired of thinking and studying and everything that has to do with school!

I guess you won't have time to reply to this before the holiday—I'll see you in person very soon! Good luck on exams.

Love you,

Edmund

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**A/N: **Thanks for reading, everyone! Up next: the siblings are all back together again for the Christmas holiday.


	5. Unexpected discovery

**How Can We Live? **

**by: mokatster**

_Chapter Five: Unexpected discovery_

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Narnia! I also have a deplorable lack of knowledge of swords and armor and things of that nature, which shows in this chapter and the next. Please excuse the lack of description! I also acknowledge that the humor in this chapter is a little silly.

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"Edmund."

Lucy's voice was insistent but, being absorbed in his book, Edmund didn't respond. The entire family—except for Susan, who had gone to bed early, complaining of a headache—was gathered in the living room to listen to the wireless. Ever since Edmund could remember, it had been a family tradition to relax after dinner and listen to the news broadcast and then the story programs featured afterward. This week being the week before Christmas, they were serenaded nightly with Christmas carols and entertained with the familiar holiday stories.

But even though Edmund enjoyed Christmas, he was only half-listening to the radio. He had discovered a book on the Crusades before he left school, and all he really wanted to do was read it. He had long been interested in investigating whether or not the design of the armor and weapons was like what he himself had used in Narnia, and he was finding the parallels intriguing.

"_Edmund_."

Edmund sighed inwardly. What could be so important?

"What?" he asked absently, not looking up to where Lucy was snuggled next to Mum and Dad on the sofa.

"I thought you weren't going to do anything intellectual over the holiday?"

"This isn't intellectual, Lu. Not stimulating in the slightest."

"What is it, then?"

Edmund heaved a real sigh this time, not bothering to conceal his irritation. Lucy was nothing if not annoyingly persistent.

"It's about Penny the Pony and how she jumps over the moon and finds the gooey lemondrop mountain."

Lucy giggled. Peter turned and looked up from where he was sprawled in front of Edmund's armchair, clearly amused. "Sounds like your kind of story then."

Dad chuckled with Lucy this time, something Edmund noted with distinct satisfaction. It seemed his father laughed too seldom these days.

Giving up on reading, Edmund closed the book and gave his brother a whack on the head with it. "I found it on _your_ shelf, Pete!" He grinned evilly. "And I've noticed, at the part where Penny dies from sugar overdose, that the pages are all wrinkled…" He flipped through the pages of his book and, trying to look sorrowful, sighed. "Looks like someone has shed many a tear over the pretty pony's untimely death…"

Lucy laughed. "Ed, you're awful!"

Peter tried to look indignant, and massaged the spot where Edmund had hit him, though he was obviously suppressing a smile. "Hey, that's not _my_ book! I think you're just blaming me to try to cover up your love of pretty little ponies!"

Lucy couldn't handle any more and buried her face in her father's shoulder in a fit of giggles. Mum smiled and shook her head, obviously finding the situation amusing but seeming to think that, as a parent, she should maintain some semblance of seriousness. "Edmund, you shouldn't hit your brother." Her smile faded into a worried frown as she looked concernedly at Peter. "Peter, dear, you're looking a bit pale. Are you feeling all right? Did you get enough sleep last night?"

Edmund smirked and interjected before Peter could speak. "He was too busy reading the sequel to Penny the pony: Molly the Mare and the Rainbow of Sparkles."

Peter reached up to hit him hard on the shoulder. Ignoring Edmund's indignant protest, he turned back to his mother. "I think I am a bit tired." He stood and stretched. "Maybe I'll go and read another chapter of Great Expectations—" he looked pointedly at Edmund, who snorted—"before turning in." He kissed both his parents and Lucy good night and headed to the stairs.

"What, I'm not good enough for a kiss?" Edmund protested jokingly, raising himself slightly from the chair.

"Not tonight, pony boy!" Peter called from the hallway. His footsteps sounded on the stairs as he headed to bed.

Edmund settled back in his chair, chortling. He cracked open his book once again and immersed himself in the different sword types of the Middle Ages.

************

It was only a few minutes after Peter had gone upstairs that Lucy felt her eyes start to grow heavy. As a queen in Narnia, she had been accustomed to going to bed quite late some nights, sometimes even after midnight! But now that she was back to being a girl in England, she also fell back into her self-proclaimed "English habits," and the desire to go to bed early (or at least at a somewhat reasonable hour) was one of them. So she bid her parents—and Edmund, though he didn't look up—goodnight with a smile, and followed her eldest brother upstairs.

She had expected Susan to be asleep already, so she was surprised to see their door slightly ajar and the light on. She was about to enter, but the sound of Peter's voice brought her to an abrupt halt, her hand still stretched out to push the door open.

"So if you don't have a headache, why didn't you stay downstairs with the rest of us?"

Lucy frowned, letting her hand fall back down to her side. Was Susan avoiding them? Why on earth would she do that?

"I can't just pretend that everything's perfectly fine, Peter." Susan's voice was strained, as if she was about to snap at someone any second. "It's hard enough at school, but I'm so busy with homework there that I can distract myself. But here…" she trailed off.

Worry flooded Lucy's mind. What was wrong with her sister? Why hadn't she noticed before that something was wrong?

"What's so different about home?" Peter asked, sounding confused. "We're plenty busy here, and we definitely have a lot more fun here than at school."

"_No_." Susan said, vehemently. "Because when I'm at home, everything reminds me of--" she broke off.

"Of Narnia?" Peter said, quietly. "I don't understand why that's a bad thing; England seems so different, I would think any reminders of Narnia would be welcome."

His voice wasn't bitter as it had been the previous year, Lucy noted with some relief. It had been some time since Peter had gotten into a fight, but still—last year had been so trying, Lucy had thought her elder brother almost unrecognizable at times. She still had this fear that something would happen to change Peter back to that bitter, hardened young man he had been.

Lucy heard Susan take a shuddering breath, and she leaned closer to the door to hear her sister's response.

"It's _Lucy_," Susan choked, the anger evident in her voice. "Everything she says, everything she does—it's as if we never left!"

Lucy stepped back from the doorway as if she'd been slapped. The frustration and anger in Susan's voice was so potent; she believed that if she dared to walk into the room at that moment, her sister's ire would grab hold of her throat with terrible dark claws and strangle her. Part of her wanted to leave, but shock kept her rooted to the spot. She didn't think her sister had ever been this angry with her before. Heart hammering, she listened to Susan rage against her.

"She acts as though she hasn't a care in the world, as if _this_ world is the most exciting place to be! _Everything_ makes her happy, _nothing_ is ever wrong, and if it is, then she's just so _excited_ for something better that she completely ignores the fact that she's miserable! I just—how can she be so—" she broke off, seemingly too frustrated to articulate anything further.

Lucy was still, tears stinging her eyes, and feeling very much as if she wanted to shrink into the floor and never come out.

"I don't think you're being fair, Su," Peter protested angrily. "This is how Lucy has always been; she sees everything differently. You don't have any right to be angry with her for doing absolutely nothing wrong."

There was a pregnant pause.

"Lucy misses Narnia just as much as the rest of us," Peter continued, soothingly. "She's dealing with it the best way she can." He paused a second or two before adding, "Personally, I think she handles it the best out of all of us."

"Oh, of _course_ she does!" Susan said scathingly. "She can never do anything wrong!"

Susan's words and her tone cut Lucy straight to the heart. She would never have believed that her sister—gentle Susan—could ever say such things about her with such sarcastic malice. She stood outside the door, quivering, torn between the thought of running away or staying put and listening to more. Suddenly, she heard footsteps behind her and whirled around.

************

Edmund didn't even notice that Lucy had gone upstairs until Mum asked if he was going to bed too. Startled, he shut his book and hastily bid his parents goodnight before following his sister.

He nearly ran into Lucy in the dark hallway, where she was lurking outside the room she shared with Susan. She wheeled around as he approached, and he was startled to see that she was in tears.

"Lucy, what—"

She gestured frantically at him to be quiet and motioned towards the door, which had been left ajar. Edmund frowned and crept closer, wondering what had gotten Lucy so upset. Peter's voice floated from the room and his tone made Edmund's stomach clench.

"Susan, what's the matter?" Peter sounded extremely worried. "I know you can't really be mad at Lucy—what's the real trouble?"

A combination of anger and worry stirred within Edmund. Is this what had Lucy so upset? What had Susan said? He reached out a hesitant hand to touch Lucy on the shoulder. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, and looked up at him with the expression of a puppy that had just been whipped for the first time in its life. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she buried her face in his chest, sniffling.

"It's just—I feel like—" Susan sighed, heavily. "I can't do this anymore."

"I know it's hard, Su, but we've done this before. It's not any different from the last time, really—"

Susan interrupted, her voice shaking with tears and anger.

"It is _not_ the same, Peter, and you know it! Stop pretending that it's no big deal; I _know_ you're just as upset about it as I am!"

Lucy pulled away from Edmund and looked up at him, her tears gone, but distress etched across her features. He met her worried gaze with his own. What was going on?

"I know," Peter murmured. "It's hard to believe we're never going back."

Susan was ranting in between angry sobs.

"Why would Aslan _do_ this to us? Why can't we go back? Edmund and Lucy can! Why can't we?"

Lucy grabbed Edmund's hand and squeezed it. He returned the pressure, worry tightening his chest.

So it was about Narnia. He should have known that Susan and Peter weren't really as accepting of their fate as they had seemed a few months ago.

Peter was speaking again.

"You heard what He said: there's nothing left for us in Narnia. We've learned all we can."

"But Edmund and Lucy have been there just as long as we have!" Susan protested, her voice louder than she probably meant it to be. "They've _done_ just as much as we have! What makes Him think that we've learned enough and they haven't? Why is He pushing us out?"

Edmund heard Peter sigh.

"I've thought about that too…and I don't really have an answer. Nobody who really knows Him can ever claim to understand Him completely, can they?"

Silence.

"We shouldn't be jealous of them," Peter continued. "We should be happy that they have the opportunity to go back. And…" he hesitated. "I'm sure it's not because Aslan loves us any less." And although his voice was firm, Edmund didn't think he sounded entirely convinced. He exchanged a guilty look with Lucy and she moved a little closer to him.

"Peter," Susan choked. "How can we live—?"

"—without Aslan?" Peter finished softly. He was silent for a moment. "I don't know," he admitted, heavily.

Lucy obviously couldn't stand another minute out in the hallway listening to her older siblings while they were so miserable. She started into the room, but Edmund pulled her back, shaking his head frantically at her. They couldn't go in there—they were part of the problem, they would only makes things worse! Lucy gave him an exasperated look and tugged his hand impatiently.

Edmund sighed. He hadn't heard what Susan had said before he came upstairs, but she must have been pretty horrid to make Lu cry. And yet after all that, Lucy still wanted to go in to offer comfort.

He really didn't understand his little sister sometimes.

With a resigned grimace, he yielded to Lucy's relentless pulling and together they burst into the room.

Peter and Susan were both sitting back against the headboard of Susan's bed; Peter had his arm around Susan, who was leaning into him with her head on his shoulder. They both broke apart, startled, when the door opened suddenly. Edmund nearly trod on Lucy as she hesitated for a moment in the doorway, suddenly uncertain as to whether or not she should have interrupted.

Peter and Susan both looked a bit embarrassed. Edmund wondered if they suspected that they had been overheard. He noted that some confusion and sadness lingered in their faces.

"Oh, sorry, Lu," Peter stammered. "Do you want me to leave so you can go to bed?"

Lucy crossed the room quickly and smothered Peter with a hug. Without hesitating, Edmund followed suit, moving to the other side of the bed and wrapping his arms around Susan, who clutched him tightly. He tried to put a lot of reassurance into the hug, to communicate with touch what he couldn't comfortably convey with words. He felt she had somehow understood him because when she finally let go, her eyes seemed less preoccupied. She smiled at him and patted the space on the bed in front of her.

"You're welcome to join us, if you want." The Gentle Queen was back, for the moment.

Edmund shrugged, and sank cautiously on the bed. "As long as we aren't interrupting anything…" he trailed off uncertainly. He saw Lucy looking questioningly at Peter and Susan.

"No, you aren't," Peter smiled and motioned for Lucy to sit on the bed too.

Peter had to have known that he and Lucy had overhead them. But he obviously didn't want to pursue the topic at the moment. Edmund grimaced to himself. Well, his brother wasn't going to get away from it that easily; he was just going to have to corner Peter later. He glanced at Lucy as she sat down beside him. They needed to talk about something else…

Lucy cottoned on right away. "So, are we planning any sort of Christmas surprise for Mum and Dad this year?"

Peter looked thoughtful. "I didn't have anything planned, but we should do something special. After all, it's Dad's first Christmas home in ages!"

Susan beamed. "Oh, yes! I was actually thinking about this the other day…" she leaned forward conspiratorially, and for a while they all pretended to think of nothing but Christmas presents.

A sudden knock at the door made all four of them jump. Mum poked her head inside and smiled at their guilty faces.

"What, still up?!" she teased. "You lot need to get into bed! It's nearly half past ten!"

Peter smiled, which he obviously thought was enough to placate Mum. "Sorry, Mum, we'll be off to bed in a minute. We promise."

Dad appeared in the doorway, obviously surprised that they were all still awake. "What are you all doing in here?"

The girls smiled innocently at him.

"We were just talking," Susan explained, evasively. "But we're all going to bed now, don't worry."

"Yeah, Daddy," chimed Lucy. "We were just about to kick the boys out!" She mock-glared at Peter and Edmund and spoke in a deep, commanding tone. "Get out!" She pointed imperiously toward the door.

Peter laughed.

"All right, all right we're going." He glanced at Edmund, grinning. "We don't want to incur the wrath of Lucy. Remember what happened the last time?"

Edmund made a face at the memory. He had believed himself to be the master of all pranks, but he had never thought of pouring water into anyone's bed. It had certainly been a shock, to say the least, to climb into a pile of soggy sheets that particular night. He didn't even remember what he and Peter had done to deserve such treatment!

Mum smiled and came in to give each of them a kiss. "Good night, loves."

After bidding their parents good night, Edmund stood and bowed to his sisters. "Ladies? Your servant." He grinned rakishly and turned to head out the door, only to whirl around a second later as Lucy shrieked. Peter had scooped her up and dropped her onto her own bed.

"Yeah, get her, Peter!" he cheered as a giggling Lucy twisted and wriggled to escape Peter's tickling fingers. Susan laughed.

Mum's voice sounded from down the hall.

"Children! That doesn't sound like you're going to bed!"

Chuckling, Peter gave Lucy one last hug and followed Edmund to their own room.

********

**A/N: **One chapter left! Thanks to all who have favorited, alerted, or left reviews for this story! I greatly appreciate the feedback, and will welcome any comments you guys have! Thanks also to all the silent readers out there--I hope you're enjoying what you're reading! :)


	6. Reassurance

**How Can We Live?**

**by: mokatster**

_Chapter Six: Reassurance _

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Narnia! Also, although I've added to and modified most of it, the conversation between Peter and Edmund in this chapter is not entirely my own.

**A/N: **Last chapter, yay! Thanks to everyone who's been reading this and for all your wonderful feedback! I would like to once again beg you to pardon my deplorable lack of knowledge of weapons and armor, because it really shows. Also, the boys' section is much longer....blame Edmund for that one. He refuses to put up with Peter's "strong older sibling" act. :)

********

A heavy silence filled the girls' room after the boys left. To cover her awkwardness and to avoid looking at Susan, Lucy picked up a hairbrush from her nightstand and started to brush her hair, readying it for braiding. As their hair had grown longer during their time in Narnia, she and Susan had been advised to braid it every night so they wouldn't wake up in the morning with horrible knots. Back in England, Lucy had continued to braid her hair nightly as soon as it grew long enough. She closed her eyes as she brushed stroke after stroke, smoothing all the tangles. If she kept her eyes closed, she could imagine she was back at Cair Paravel, with one of her ladies-in-waiting readying her for bed…

She felt a soft hand close over hers and she started. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Susan, who smiled hesitatingly.

"Do you want me to braid your hair for you?"

A nasty part of Lucy wanted to tell Susan that she didn't want her to do any such thing after saying such terrible things about her. She wanted to throw the brush at Susan's head and tell her sister exactly how she felt about being ignored at school and having Susan brushing her off to spend time with girls she barely knew.

But Lucy, the real Lucy, remembered how despairingly Susan had spoken of Narnia, and of Aslan. And she knew that Susan needed her help. So she smiled gratefully and handed her sister the brush. After all, she really did have the most frustrating time trying to braid her own hair.

Susan sat next to Lucy on the bed and continued to brush her hair. Lucy closed her eyes and hummed in satisfaction as the brush stroked her hair gently.

"Do you remember when your hair had grown past your waist, Su?" she asked, suddenly.

"I do," Susan's smile was evident in her voice. "I had to get it cut because it would keep catching on things and I couldn't bear to wear it pinned up all the time."

Silence fell again, and even though it was a more comfortable silence this time, Lucy found she couldn't bear it any longer.

"Su, do you hate me?" she blurted suddenly.

The brush stopped and there was a pause before Susan answered.

"Were you standing outside the door?" she whispered.

Lucy winced and nodded. She hoped Susan wouldn't be mad.

"How much did you hear?" Susan asked, her voice still hushed.

"…a lot," Lucy admitted without turning around, her voice tiny.

Dropping the brush on the bed, Susan put her hands on Lucy's shoulders and squeezed.

"I didn't mean it the way it sounded," she pleaded. "I was just—" she sighed. "I've just been so frustrated….and, I suppose, a bit jealous," she added.

Lucy turned at that, surprised. She certainly hadn't expected Susan to be feeling anything of the sort.

"Jealous? Of _me_?" she asked, incredulously. "But…why?"

"Because…" Susan hesitated, searching for the right words. "Because you've managed to be content whether we're here or in Narnia. Nothing seems to faze you." Her eyes met Lucy's, and Lucy's heart clenched at the despair so evident in her sister's face.

"How do you do it?" Susan asked. "How can you know that everything—?" she broke off and looked away.

Lucy took her sister's hands in her own. She didn't really know what to say. She wasn't sure how to articulate what she felt: the presence of love, the certainty of a purpose behind all things, the knowledge that they themselves were miracles, capable of anything as long as they believed in the One who had made them who they were.

"Coming back this time wasn't as hard as the first time," she began, slowly. "I think it's because this time Aslan Himself sent us back, and before we just sort of stumbled out of the wardrobe ourselves. It was easy to think we had made a mistake. But now…" she smiled to herself, remembering how Aslan had breathed over them before they had walked through the doorway in the air. "Now we _know_ that we left with the Lion's blessing, and that we're here because He means us to be here." She squeezed Susan's hands and smiled reassuringly at her. "It's easier this way."

"So you think there's a reason we're constantly being shunted back and forth?" Susan was obviously trying to be civil, but Lucy could hear the bitterness underlying the calm in her voice. "How are we supposed to find meaning in anything, living two lives the way we are?"

Lucy thought for a moment.

"I think it's a matter of trusting Him," she said softly. "He must know what He's doing; He's always come through for us. It is much harder here, but," she pressed on earnestly. "Don't you think our lives are better here, having known Aslan there?"

Susan didn't reply; she pulled her hands out of Lucy's grip and gently turned her head to begin plaiting her hair.

"Su?"

"I don't really want to talk about this anymore, Lucy," she said, and the steely note of finality in her voice told Lucy that she would suffer no arguments.

************

Edmund sat on the edge of his bed, idly flipping through his medieval history book while he waited for Peter to return from the bathroom. His bare foot tapped an anxious rhythm on the rug as he pondered how he was going to broach the topic of Narnia. He had briefly considered leaving this particular discussion for the following day, but he knew there was no way he would get to sleep after what he had overhead. He was still trying to reconcile Peter's confidence from a few months prior with the despair he had heard in his voice less than an hour ago.

Obviously, living without Narnia wasn't as easy as Peter had claimed it would be. Part of him was strangely relieved to hear this, because he hadn't wanted to believe it possible that one day they would be forced to remain in England permanently. He didn't want to be content with England, and to hear that Peter didn't either was oddly comforting, in a selfish sort of way.

Another part of him was consumed with worry for his older siblings. That they were despairing was clear enough. But Edmund didn't know how he and Lucy could help them, because they were right—they _couldn't_ live without Aslan. None of them could.

It was after thinking this that Edmund realized he was also angry. Why had they lied to him and to Lucy? Did they think they couldn't handle the truth? Frustration, an emotion he had grown to know intimately the prior year, welled up inside him. He remembered the past year all too well, and he didn't want to live the same thing over again.

He looked up when the door closed behind Peter. His brother smiled briefly at him and started to change into his pajamas. He nodded at the book in Edmund's lap. "So you _did_ bring schoolwork home, then?"

Edmund shook his head, looking back at the book. "This isn't schoolwork; it's just something I thought would be interesting." He paused, studying the illustrations. "The design of the armor and swords used during the Crusades is actually very similar to what we used ourselves."

Interest sparked in Peter's eyes. "Really?" Buttoning up his shirt, he crossed the room to read over Edmund's shoulder.

Edmund handed the book over. "Read the description below the sword diagram." He rubbed a hand tiredly across his face. "I still need to find an account of someone fighting with two swords at once, though" he muttered thoughtfully. Once General Oreius had suggested that particular form for him, he had never been able to fully enjoy fighting with a single blade. He was still proud to think that the double blades had become his signature style, and could remember taking several enemies by surprise with its lethality.

"Wow, you're right," Peter breathed, fascinated, as he pored over the figures and their descriptions. "This is just like Narnia." He turned a few pages. "The design's a bit rougher, though—definitely nothing as elegant as we had." He handed the book back to Edmund after flipping through several chapters and crossed to his own side of the room.

"Good luck finding anything about your two-sword technique," he added as he climbed into bed. "From what I understand of that period, fighting with one blade and a shield was pretty standard." He yawned and stretched his arms above his head. "I'm definitely going to sleep well tonight."

Edmund raised a skeptical eyebrow, recalling the conversation he and Lucy had overheard. "Are you?"

Peter frowned.

"Yes," he said slowly, as though he were explaining something obvious to a small child. "It _is_ rather late, in case you hadn't noticed." He eyed Edmund warily, as if he were expecting some sort of trap. Edmund thought he must have sounded particularly threatening for Peter to be so suspicious. "Why do you ask?"

Edmund frowned and folded his arms across his chest. "Why did you lie to me?

Peter looked startled. "What are you talking about?"

Edmund glared at him through narrowed eyes. "You never were okay with the idea of leaving Narnia, were you? You were just saying that you were."

Peter blinked. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't that.

"I'm fine, Ed," he stammered. "I don't really know what exactly—"

"Oh, shut up, Peter!" Edmund snapped, jumping to his feet and striding over to his dresser. He yanked open a drawer and started rummaging for some socks. "You're such a bloody hero—it never occurs to you to ask for help or anything when you need it." He seized a pair, realized they matched, and threw them back a little harder than necessary. He was furious—he hated that Peter had to act like such a martyr all the time.

But, if he was honest, Edmund was mostly furious with himself. Because what he hated the most was that he hadn't even noticed that Peter had been hiding something from him.

"Just because you're the oldest doesn't mean you have something you need to prove to the rest of us," he continued, his throat still tight with anger. He yanked a striped sock on one foot and a plain black sock on the other and then stood facing the dresser, fuming. As an afterthought, he slammed the sock drawer shut.

He heard his brother sigh behind him.

"How much did you hear?" Peter asked, giving up the act. He didn't sound angry, more like…resigned.

"Enough."

Peter grimaced and ran a hand through his hair.

"I never lied to you, Ed," he insisted. "Or to Lucy. When I told you I was okay with it, I really was. But…" he sighed again, heavily. "I suppose it was easier to believe that while I was still in Narnia, standing next to Aslan. But after being back in England for a while…" he swallowed. "It's harder to find my purpose here. It was easy in Narnia—I was the High King. I had my country, and my people. But who am I here? What purpose do I serve? Aslan said that it was time for us to learn to live here rather than in Narnia. But," he continued despairingly, "I can't figure out what there is to live _for_!"

Edmund turned, startled at the way Peter had worded this last statement.

"Are you saying that life here is pointless?" he demanded, incredulously. Sure, he'd seen Peter discontent and frustrated before, but he had never expected his brother to sound so hopeless.

Peter just looked at him. Then—"I know it's not," he muttered. "But I mean…what is there here, really? I don't even feel like I belong here, sometimes."

Edmund felt his stomach twist, and he crossed the room and sat next to Peter on the bed. He stared at the rug, wondering what he could possibly say to give his brother some reassurance. After all, he was in the same conundrum.

"I don't think you're looking at this the right way, Pete," he began, slowly, after a few thoughtful moments. "I mean, I'm not in your exact position, so maybe I can't talk, but…" He took a deep breath. "Lucy and I talked about this a while ago, and…we think that England is just as much a part of us as Narnia is. It was just…easier, I suppose, to learn what we had to over there. And now…" He broke off when he noticed Peter was scowling at him. "What?" he asked, perplexed.

Peter glared. "Would you _please_ change your socks?" he huffed, obviously irritated.

Edmund fought back a laugh—he had forgotten how much Peter hated mismatched socks. He slid his feet under the rug, hiding the offending footwear from view. "There, happy? Are you going to let me finish, or was that your oh-so-subtle way of saying you don't want to talk about this anymore?"

Peter fidgeted, rather guiltily, Edmund thought.

"I'm just—" Peter sighed. "I've thought about this so much—_constantly_, in fact—ever since we got back. And I don't know what you can possibly say that I haven't thought of already."

Edmund stiffened.

"So you just expect me to sit here and let you flounder?" he demanded, coldly. "You want to try to figure things out for yourself, even though that obviously hasn't worked? I was _going_ to say that not being able to go back is probably a _good_ sign for you and Su. Have you thought of _that_ one, High King?" Edmund knew his tone was harsh, but he didn't care. As much as he loved and admired his brother, Peter _really_ got on his nerves sometimes.

Peter looked instantly contrite.

"Look, Ed, I didn't mean it the way it came out. I just—" he hesitated. "I feel like this is something I should be figuring out on my own."

Edmund looked at him shrewdly. "Does this have anything to do with what Aslan told you?"

Peter nodded, but didn't elaborate, and the two were silent for a minute.

"So…you think being back here is _good_ for me and Su?"

Edmund tried to remember what he had been saying.

"Well…yeah," he said. "What did Aslan say? That you've learned all you can, right? So...it seems to me that He believes you capable enough and strong enough to bring Narnia here to England. And Lu and I…have something else we need to do before we get to that point. We're not ready." He looked up at Peter. "And you are."

To his relief, his words seemed to have resonated with his brother.

"I think you're right," Peter said, slowly. "And I think I've been trying to convince myself of something like that ever since we got back.

"But it's _hard_!" he burst out suddenly. "Narnia has been a part of me—a part of all of us—for so long. The thought of never being able to go back—of not being able to do anything there—is just really terrifying." His eyes met Edmund's, who felt something inside his chest constrict painfully to see his brother look so vulnerable. But he understood him completely.

If Peter and Susan were too old to go back to Narnia, then inevitably and Lucy would be too, one day. And that thought was enough to fill him with a petrifying dread. He clenched his hands into tight fists.

"I know…" he murmured. "It's terrifying. But," he said, as a sudden thought occurred to him. "I think it's supposed to be."

He looked at Peter intently, and his brother waited, obviously perplexed.

"Our first time in Narnia, facing the White Witch? Terrifying! Trying to be the rulers we were meant to be and live up to Aslan's expectations? Terrifying! Coming back to England after a lifetime in Narnia? Terrifying! Going _back _to Narnia thousands of years later, helping someone _else_ claim the Narnian throne and not knowing if we would even succeed? Terrifying! And now..." He tried to laugh. "Aslan has to continue the tradition! I mean, come on! He Himself is terrifying at times! He isn't _tame_. So once He's in our lives…" He swallowed and looked away, trying to blink back the tears that suddenly burned his eyes as memories flooded him. "We should expect everything to be completely and terrifyingly unpredictable."

Peter put an arm around Edmund, who didn't pull away. He nodded as he pondered Edmund's words. His voice was hushed when he finally spoke. "That's…true. If He isn't tame, then once we give up our lives to Him, we certainly can't expect them to be tame either." He sighed. "I suppose there really isn't any reason to be afraid, is there?"

"He hasn't made a mistake…ever," Edmund reminded him. "It always turns out all right, even when it doesn't seem like it will."

Peter nodded, his eyes far away. He hugged Edmund a little closer. "Especially then."

After a few moments, Edmund pulled away slightly to look meaningfully at Peter. "You're right where you're supposed to be. You need to show everyone here what it means to be magnificent!"

He said the last bit half-jokingly, and Peter finally smiled, dispelling any traces of care that had remained in his face. He ruffled Edmund's hair affectionately, grinning wider as Edmund scowled. "Thanks, Ed." His face grew serious and he studied Edmund thoughtfully, though Edmund thought he saw a smile playing around Peter's mouth. "You know, you really are smarter than you look."

Edmund fought back a smile as he pretended to glare. Peter was definitely back to normal. He gave him a shove before standing and stretching. "That's what I'm here for. I can spout wisdom on command." As he climbed into bed, he turned to give Peter a mischievous grin. "You know, you should start writing this stuff down so I never have to repeat myself."

Peter burst out laughing.

"Right, I'll get right on that, Mr. Guru. Good night." He rolled underneath his covers and starting punching his pillow into the perfect position. Edmund, who was painstakingly arranging his own bedclothes, glared at Peter with narrowed eyes.

"If you start calling me that, you'd best be prepared to be the bearer of a title much more humiliating."

Peter looked greatly amused. "What did you have in mind?"

Loftily, Edmund replied, "Oh, this requires careful thought. I cannot possibly have a suitable name in mind yet." He grinned mischievously. "But rest assured that I can provide one should the opportunity arise."

"Well, I'm sure I'll hate it, whatever it may be." Peter rolled his eyes but he also grinned at Edmund before reaching out to turn off the light.

There was silence for a minute or two. Then—

"How about 'prat'?" Edmund suggested innocently.

A pillow flew suddenly out of the darkness to hit Edmund square in the face. He laughed.

************

The lights had been turned out and the tense silence in the girls' room had faded into the sleepier kind of quiet that is only present in the middle of the night.

Lucy listened to her sister's breathing gradually slow as Susan drifted off to sleep, and wished she were that lucky. She stared into the darkness, her mind replaying their conversation over and over again. There was something she must have said wrong, something she could have done differently. Susan hadn't seemed at all reassured and it didn't look as if she'd get to broach this topic again anytime soon.

"Oh, Aslan," she pleaded silently. "I don't know if You can hear me all the way from England; but we need You. Please, as You love them, help Peter and Susan. I'm so scared for them. How can they live without You?" She pressed her lips together tightly and closed her eyes against the tears that suddenly burned them. She couldn't live without Him, either. "We all need You. Please, _please_ don't leave us here alone."

She heaved a deep sigh, and opened her eyes again to stare at the dark ceiling above her. Somehow, inexplicably, she knew that her prayer had helped. Piercing the maelstrom of fear and despair inside her was a ray of hope and reassurance. And she knew—again, she couldn't explain how—that no matter where she and her family were, they _couldn't_ be without Aslan. Their lives were irrevocably bound to Him, forever. With this last thought, she shifted to a more comfortable position and closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep.

********

**A/N: **The end! Thanks for reading, everybody!


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